I'll Find You in My Dreams
by Pir8grl
Summary: Sara builds a dream world inside her mind, follwing an injury. So, I suppose this is *really* tropey…but I couldn't resist. Consider this a "T" for a couple of fade-to-black scenes. Thank you to the lovely tenroseforeverandever and stillthewordgirl.


Sara Lance smiled, and made a drowsy little sound somewhere between a hum and a purr, all without opening her eyes. Warm fingers stroked the scar on her spine - the one that was recent enough to still be sensitive sometimes.

"You look more like a cat than a canary right now," Leonard Snart chuckled.

She blinked up at him lazily. "Is that such a bad thing?"

"Of course not. You're gorgeous," he added, all teasing gone from his voice.

"Could say the same about you."

"You could, but I imagine the League of Assassins has some standards for eyesight."

Sara leaned up on one elbow and reached out to trace Snart's features with her free hand. "Why can't you see what I see?"

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. Another to the pulse point of her wrist. "All your life, people have told you that you're beautiful, and that they love you." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone, but didn't quite manage it.

Sara rolled up suddenly to straddle him, but that particular move wasn't about sex - it was about being close enough to cradle his face in her hands. "Leonard Snart, you are beautiful, and I do love you."

And if life had made him hesitant to believe her words…well, she had other ways to show him.

* * *

"Doctor Palmer, how is she?" Rip Hunter's voice issued from somewhere in the vicinity of the medbay's ceiling.

"The way we're pitching around, I can't stay on my feet long enough to tell!" Ray yelled back.

"Is there any way at all to stabilize our flight?' Martin Stein added anxiously.

"Working on it, gentlemen."

"Hey!" Mick Rory bellowed. "One of you wanna make with the first aid already?" He was using his rather formidable brawn to hold a battered and bloodied Sara Lance in place on an examining couch. "Don't you fly away from us, Birdie…you hear me?" he whispered gruffly.

* * *

Snart watched indulgently as Sara attacked the bakery box with acquisitive glee. Her gaze flickered from the contents of the box to his face.

"There's a Peep on my cake," Sara observed dubiously.

"It's a canary," Snart informed her.

"It's a Peep!"

"It looks like a canary," he replied defensively.

"Maybe. If you squint _**alot**_."

"Hey, if you don't want it," Snart began, reaching for the offending sweet.

Laughing, Sara dodged his fingers and nabbed the candy, popping it into her own mouth. Snart smirked wickedly, eyeing the sugar crystals that clung to her lips, then leaned in to steal a kiss.

* * *

"Doctor Palmer, Doctor Stein - how is our patient?" Rip inquired, striding briskly into the medbay.

"She's hanging on," Martin replied.

"We were able to repair most of the physical injuries with no complications, but she's got a pretty severe concussion," Ray expounded. "Nothing we've tried is working to bring her out of it."

Rip gravely studied the readouts, then glanced at Sara. He'd never seen her so still and pale. "All those time jumps we made certainly didn't help. Gideon, have you any theories as to why we can't wake Miss Lance?"

"Yes, Captain. Miss Lance does not wish to awaken."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Gideon, explain," Martin said.

"Miss Lance is dreaming and she does not wish to wake up."

"Must be one hell of a dream," Ray muttered.

"Can you tell us what Sara is dreaming about?" Rip inquired.

"Yes, Captain. She's dreaming of Mr. Snart. At the moment, they are engaged in -"

Three horrified voices rang out simultaneously:

"Gideon!"

"Whoa!"

"No!"

Rip, Ray, and Martin slumped in relief as the computerized voice fell mercifully silent.

"Hi, guys," Mick said by way of greeting, as he slouched into the medbay. "Hey, Gideon - how's Sara?"

The other three men cringed in unison as the AI spoke again. "Miss Lance is currently immersed deep in a dream state. In this dream state, she and Mr. Snart are in the midst of planning their wedding."

"Wait - what?" Rip demanded peeking over the hand he'd slapped over his eyes.

"Snart? Wedding?" Mick chortled. "Can I have some of whatever the computer's drinking?"

* * *

Sara nestled back into Snart's arms and admired the icy blue sapphire that sparkled on her ring finger.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what brought this on? We're not exactly what you'd call a traditional couple."

She felt his chuckle as a comforting rumble against her back. "No, we're not, but you, at least, have a rather traditional sort of family. I think they'd be very disappointed if they didn't get to see your father walk you down the aisle in a frilly dress."

"In case you haven't noticed, Leonard, I'm not a frilly sort of girl," she replied with an adorable pout.

"I had noticed, as it happens."

"But you'd do this, just to make my family happy?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"I'll do it to make _**you**_ happy. The fact that your old man might be willing to treat his new son in law to a get out jail free card is just icing on the cake."

Sara giggled and tipped her face up for a kiss. Snart was more than happy to oblige.

* * *

Mick wandered into the medbay, beer in hand. Sara lay unmoving on the examining couch. The blood from her injuries had been washed away, and the bruises faded by Gideon's treatments, but the only signs of life were in the blinking lights of the computer screen. He looked around, to ensure that he was alone, before speaking.

"Hi, Sara. I brought you a beer. Gideon says that you're dreaming about Snart. I miss him too. And…I know I'm not too smart, but what's going on inside your head, Sara - it ain't real. Snart was the realest guy I ever knew. If he could see you like this, just fading away, he'd kick your butt. Or at least, he'd try. The Sara Lance that I know don't take nothin' lying down. She'd also never turn down a drink."

Mick reached out to briefly touch the hand that wore Snart's wide silver ring. "I miss you, Sara. Don't leave me all alone, OK?"

He waited a long moment, then sighed and popped open the beer.

* * *

It had started as a training session, but rapidly developed into an entirely different form of body contact.

"See? I was right!" Sara crowed gleefully as she flipped them over again, ending with her on top of Snart.

"About what, exactly?" he growled.

"I knew we'd find a use for the extra-thick floor mats," she breathed in his ear.

* * *

"Yes, thank you, Gideon!" Rip said firmly, cutting off the synthesized voice. "Perhaps not quite so much detail next time, hmm?"

"I did _**not**_ need that mental image," Martin muttered with a pained grimace.

"Me, neither," Ray concurred.

"Guys? Can we get back on track to figure out how to fix Sara?" Jax demanded. "What do we know?"

"Sara was injured in the initial attack, and Mick brought her directly here," Ray said.

"And then the temporal stabilizers went offline and we were bouncing all over the time line for a while," Jax continued.

"You've always said that time travel while injured was extremely dangerous," Martin observed.

"It is," Rip replied gravely.

"This dream state that Gideon says Sara's got herself into - is that something you've encountered before?" Martin asked.

"No," Rip answered. "But there are so many variables where Sara is concerned. After all, she was clinically dead for six months. We have no clue how that could have affected her."

"Gideon," Ray asked, "Can you give us an update on what's going on in Sara's mind? Just the basics -" he added quickly. "Nothing too graphic."

 _ **"Please,"**_ Jax intoned fervently.

"At the moment, Miss Lance and her sister are selecting wedding dresses."

"Dresses?" Jax muttered in disbelief. "Isn't that a little ordinary for someone like Sara?"

"She wasn't born an assassin, you know," Ray reminded the younger man.

"Her sister," Martin mused.

"Her sister, and Mr. Snart," Rip corrected. "The last two people she's lost. That's a very powerful combination. I can't say as I blame her for not wanting to leave them."

"What do you mean, 'leave them?'" Jax demanded. "They're dead."

"Not to her," Martin said kindly.

* * *

The dress was definitely _**not**_ frilly - just an elegantly simple strapless gown with an empire waist. Sara's, of course, was white. Laurel's was midnight blue, and Lisa and Felicity's were ice blue.

Sara had eschewed a veil, opting instead for a white rose tucked behind one ear.

"You're beautiful," Laurel told her, fastening the delicate gold necklace around her sister's throat.

"So are you," Sara replied happily, staring at their reflections in the mirror.

"Len is gonna die when he sees you," Felicity gushed. "Not really die, of course, 'cuz that would be bad. Um…I mean…you look really great."

"Thank you. So do you," Sara said fondly, cutting off the blonde babble in midstream.

She turned to look at Lisa, and found that she couldn't seem to focus on her face. Sara shook her head, and blinked a few times, but she simply could not bring the image into focus. "What's wrong with me…?" she murmured.

"You have sustained a head injury, Miss Lance."

"Gideon? What are you doing in my parent's house?"

"You are not in your parent's house, Miss Lance. You are in the medbay of the Waverider."

"No. No…I'm home. I'm getting married today."

"No, Miss Lance. You cannot marry Mr. Snart, because he died when the Oculus exploded. And you could not see Miss Snart properly because you never met her. Your traditions call for the inclusion of Miss Snart in your wedding rituals, but you cannot have memories of someone you never actually met."

"No!" Sara protested. "I can't lose them…not again."

"All of this is occurring in your own psyche. Nothing you have experienced here is real."

Sara pressed a hand to her temple. "Wait. If this is all in my head, how can you be here?"

"You are part of my crew, Miss Lance. It is my duty to protect you. If you remain here, eventually your physical body will cease functioning."

"At least I'd be happy."

"Your shipmates would not."

"I don't care!"

"Sara."

"Leonard?" she whispered, without turning around.

"Yeah. It's me. Helluva a monkey suit you dreamed up."

Sara turned slowly. He was standing there, dressed in his tux with a waistcoat of midnight- and ice-blue paisley.

"It's me, Sara. Really me. I was OK with dying, because I knew you'd make it out of there. You and Mick. Don't you take that away from me. Don't you dare."

"I don't want to go back to being alone. I want you and Laurel. I want _**this**_ ," Sara replied.

"This isn't real, Sara."

"It could be," she faltered.

"Not for long."

"Long enough."

Snart stepped close and laid his hands on Sara's shoulders. Even now, with her cheeks flushed and eyes filled with tears, he looked at her like she was the loveliest thing he'd ever seen. "I want you to live. I want you to save the world, as many times as you can. I want you to keep Mick from dying of gross stupidity."

"You overestimate my abilities," Sara said, laughing despite the tears streaking her face.

"Never. Just…go back, please."

"I don't want to be without you."

"You never will be."

"Promise?"

"Yeah." He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

* * *

Sara blinked her eyes open. The ceiling of the Waverider's medbay came slowly into focus, then blurred again, as tears overflowed and ran down her cheeks.

"Welcome back, Sara," Mick said quietly. "I missed you. I'm glad you came back to us."

"Where's that beer you promised me?"

"I sorta borrowed it. I'll get you another."

"Bring two. I want to drink a toast."

"To Snart?"

"Yeah."

Mick nodded. "You got it, Blondie."


End file.
